


Alignment Vignettes

by WandersUnderStarlight



Series: What Makes A Monster [11]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Full Moon, M/M, Snippets, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandersUnderStarlight/pseuds/WandersUnderStarlight
Summary: Alignment only happens four times a vorn, and the pack has its traditions. But this time Jazz and Ricochet are tagging along.Two full moons. Six Vignettes.
Relationships: Barricade/Bumblebee, Bluestreak/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker (Transformers), Jazz/Prowl, Ricochet/Smokescreen (Transformers)
Series: What Makes A Monster [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1157918
Comments: 55
Kudos: 220





	1. Vignette One: Morning- Barricade

The Beat was closed for the apex of the double full moons. Prowl had explained to Jazz that it was both okay and expected for the bar to be closed on this night. No bot was crazy enough to demand that Neutral Ground be kept open. Too much happened on Alignment. 

And since the Beat was closed, the pack, after a lengthy discussion, had agreed to invite Jazz and Ricochet along for their Alignment “ritual”.

Barricade shuffled nervously in front of the door to Bumblebee’s apartment. He could feel the strengthening pull of Alignment crawling under his plating, whispering at him that it was almost time to shift and roam. To run amongst the crystals. But no, not yet. The moons rising was still joors away. With a calming shake and fluff of his armor, he knocked, hoping the minibot was at home.

His audials picked up the encouraging shuffling sounds of a bot coming near.

“Just a moment!” Bumblebee’s sweet voice came through the door.

The yellow minibot gave him a sunny smile when he opened the door. “Hi Barricade. Come in.” Bumblebee stepped back and motioned into the room. 

Barricade walked in, making a valiant attempt to keep his sniffing subtle and not sure he was succeeding. The room was much as it had been the last time he’d seen it, though clean and free of the stink of fear and misery. It smelled of the minibot’s appealing, calm scent and mixed powdered minerals.

There was also a subtle, but heavy metallic/ magic scent that Barricade associated with Trailbreaker. He didn’t know if it was from the mech’s previous presence or the magical wards he’d placed in the minibot’s space. Barricade harshly shut down the flare of jealousy at the smell of the witch, telling the part of himself that was the beast to calm the frag down. Trailbreaker was a _friend_ to the pack and a _friend_ to the hiding spark-eater.

“What brings you here?” Bumblebee asked while shutting the door behind them. “I thought Jazz said your pack was going out to the Iacon Reserve for Alignment.”

“We are. We’re going to leave in a few joors. Do you want to come with us?” And there went his mouth without his permission again. He hadn’t even managed any small talk before sticking his pede in it.

Bumblebee looked flummoxed by the invitation.

Embarrassment flushed through Barricade’s field. “I mean… if you want to… Jazz and Ricochet are coming… and you could too...” he trailed off lamely.

The minibot turned and hopped up onto the couch, after a moment he patted the space next to him. “Would you like to sit for a bit?”

Barricade sat stiffly. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling the need to apologize for his own stumbling attempts at communication.

“I’m not offended.” Bumblebee said gently. “I’m just surprised. And… it’s sweet of you to offer, but I don’t feel like I can accept your invitation. Not right now, anyway. I know Alignment is special for beastformer packs. And as much as you and Jazz trust me, I think I still make some of your other pack members uncomfortable. I don’t want to cause any trouble for your pack.”

Barricade immediately bristled. “If one of them said something to you-”

“No, no, nothing like that!” The minibot rushed to assure. “But they haven’t known me for very long and they’re wary. I don’t blame them. I’m still nearly a stranger. I mean, this is the first time Jazz and Ricochet are coming with you, right? And that’s going to be stressful enough on some of them and you all practically live with them.”

The boltjackal stopped and thought about Bumblebee’s words, grudgingly admitting that he might be right.

The minibot just smiled at the admission.

Barricade felt an impatient pulse along the pack bond and checked his chronometer. He stood, “I need to get back. We have to leave soon to get to the Reserve before evening.”

Bumblebee got up as well. “Okay. Drive safe, alright. And, um, run safe?”

Barricade chuckled. “I will.”

As they reached the door and the minibot opened it for him, he stopped the beastformer with a servo on his arm. “Barricade… when Alignment is over, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

“Like… a date?” Barricade winced at the excited near-squeak his own vocalizer made on the last word.

Bee just smiled. “Yeah, a date.”

“Yes!” He’d said it a little too eagerly, but the minibot didn’t seem to mind.

Bumblebee’s smile widened brilliantly. “Great! I’ll see you when you get back. Have a good time.”

“Yeah, see you soon.”

Barricade felt as if he were floating on the way back to The Beat, unaware of the huge, denta-filled grin on his own dermas.


	2. Vignette Two: Mid-cycle- Ricochet and Smokescreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ricochet is trying to pack for the trip...

“I ‘aven’t been campin’ since I was a younglin’.” Ricochet groused, stuffing a thermal regulating mesh into his subspace and then another for his brother. It was fortunate that Skids was in charge of the tents, because while Ricochet wasn’t at capacity yet, he was fast reaching it. He didn’t know what else he and Jazz were going to need for this trip. 

Jazz was in the kitchen working out how much energon he could fit into his own subspace. Barricade had been sweet-talked into carrying the tiny mobile cooker for them so they could have warmed fuel (though he’d been oddly good-willed about it). Smokescreen had told them the pack could provide enough for the trip, but both the brothers were a little wary of drinking fuel from dead mecha-animals.

Said mech was helping Ricochet in his berthroom pick through the linens for appropriate camp “berths”.

“You don’t _have_ to come, you know.” The blue and red mech said, sounding nonchalant. He might sound like he didn’t care, but the too-casual indifference was telling.

Ricochet knew better, shooting the beastformer a look. “Ya ain’t leavin’ me b’hind tha’ easily, Smoky.”

The beastformer grinned with too many denta. He leaned over and nuzzled an audial horn. “I like it when you call me that.”

The Polyhexian huffed and shoved at Smokescreen’s helm. “Are ya gonna ‘elp, or not?”

“Aw, you have more than enough meshes, Ric. Besides,” The beastformer nearly draped himself over Ricochet’s shoulders and whispered into an audial, “I’ll be there to keep you warm.”

“Knock it off, ya aft!” Ricochet shoved Smokescreen, but it was too late and his core temperature shot up a few degrees. The beastformer just laughed and let himself fall to the berth. He immediately struck an exaggerated seductive pose.

Ricochet snickered. “I’m tryin’ t’ concentrate, fragger.”

“You know you want me.” Smokescreen sing-songed at him.

“I didn’t say I didn’t, but we gotta leave soon.”

Smokescreen always got more amorous around a full moon, and Ricochet had expected a sort of doubled effect because of the double moons. But instead of being doubled, it was like it was expedentential thanks to the Alignment.

“We’ve got time to play...” Smokescreen looked up at Ricochet from under his gold chevron, optics beginning to fill in with a matching color. His gaze was far-away, almost feverish. 

Ricochet froze. He had the feeling that if he moved, he was going to get pounced upon. And while he wouldn’t mind that normally…

“Rico! We need to get going!” Jazz called from the living room, unintentionally shattering the sexually charged standoff between himself and his beastformer beau.

“See? We ‘ave t’ go. Now stop actin’ like a- ack!”

He’d made the mistake of passing too close to the berth and had therefore been snagged by a determined beastformer. He was now half-sprawled under the smug mech. Smokescreen licked his neck cables, which was frankly cheating in Ricochet’s opinion.

“Mine.” Smokescreen murmured.

Ricochet swallowed, but managed a disgruntled sounding, “Yeah, ya menace, I’m yars.”

A possessive rumble from the beastformer’s chest greeted his admission. It looked like the blue and red mech was about to go right back to what he was doing, but the commanding tone of Prowl rang out through the apartment. “Smokescreen. It is time to leave.”

The barely concealed order from his alpha got the beastformer moving. He stood and offered a servo up to Ricochet. Once on his pedes, Smokescreen leaned over and whispered hopefully, “We’ll continue this later, yeah?”

Ricochet gave him an appraising look. The glazed look had left the beastformer’s optics, now back to their cobalt blue.

“Yar gonna ‘ave t’ give me a real compellin’ argument t’ interface outside.”

The fanged smile returned. “Oh, don’t worry, I can be _very_ persuasive when the mood takes me.”


	3. Vignette Three: Sunset- Skids and Nightbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations at the campsite.

Skids vented in deeply, letting the scent of tingrass and crystal trees permeate his olfactory with a happy sigh. He loved living in Iacon, but it was just nice to be out of the city for Alignment.

The pack and the brothers made it to the Reserve as the sun was setting. Prowl led them through the crystal trees for nearly a joor to a specific clearing that they had claimed as “theirs” quite a few vorns ago. There were only the sounds of nature around them, the air clean of the noise of Iacon.

Everybot busied themselves by setting up the campsite for the darkcycle. Prowl was circling the edge of the clearing, scraping his clawed servos along the crystalline trees on the perimeter, leaving marks and nanites. He was refreshing the marks left there previously, securing their temporary “territory”. Skids had unsubspaced the three tents they’d brought and was helping Nightbeat, Streetwise and Bluestreak put them together.

Jazz and Prowl would be sharing one as would Smokescreen and Ricochet. The rest of the pack would either use the one big tent that they usually did or recharge out in the clearing under the two full moons. It was a departure from the usual one large tent that they brought, but nobot begrudged the alpha and beta wanting a little “privacy” with their mates.

Barricade was scouting out a little ways to see what game was around for them to hunt later. And Smokescreen was readying the space for the pack ritual, clearing a circle near the treeline of fallen crystals and mineral deposits. As the pack set up the “territory” Jazz and Ricochet worked out the mobile stovetop. 

Skids soon found himself in deep discussion with Nightbeat about the new mystery novel the younger beastformer was reading. The blue and yellow hypercoyote loved mystery, suspense and conspiracy. Which was why his new job working with their alpha as a private investigator was something of a recharge-flux come true.

He and Skids got along quite well, actually. The blue turbohound sort of thought of the hypercoyote as something of a little brother. They both enjoyed puzzles and, strangely enough, watching holovids about cold cases. Skids’ calm observant nature played off of Nightbeat’s cool, confident and sometimes irreverent attitude.

A joor later, the tents were up, the ritual space was prepared, and Barricade had returned from his scouting, reporting several big game targets with a self-satisfied air. Prowl, who had finished his marking, transformed into his canis form and waited for the others to do the same. He led them on a run to burn off some extra energy before the pack ritual. 

This wasn't the group hunt that would take place once the moons were up, this was just allowing their canis sides to get reacquainted with the forest. Skids and Nightbeat, however, were still chatting to each other about the mystery novel even in their canis forms.

Skids wasn’t sure if it was just him, but it felt like this Alignment was going to herald in a positive change for the pack. Nightbeat seemed chipper, but he usually was. The rest of the pack were in similarly good moods, but again, that was normal for Alignment.

He didn’t know what it was… but he just had a _good_ feeling about this darkcycle.

Prowl sped up into an easy canter. Excitement flowed through the pack. Skids let out a cheerful little bark as he matched the speed. Nightbeat yipped in response and started to race him happily.


	4. Vignette Four: Moonrise- Streetwise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for the pack ritual.

Streetwise sat in a compact circle with his pack. They were all in their canis forms, shoulder to shoulder in the ritual ring Smokescreen had cleared out earlier. They were unnaturally still, waiting for Luna One to fully rise before beginning the affirmation of their pack bond. Several meters away, Jazz and Ricochet were waiting next to the tents, respectfully quiet.

At some instinctual moment, Prowl cycled back his chestplates. The rest of the pack followed suit. In their tight circle, the glow of their sparks mingled. Not a true merge, but a prolonged exposure that let them connect to each other.

This part of Alignment was always bittersweet for Streetwise. He loved his pack, he really did. But he always thought of his old pack during this time. His brothers.

He felt more than heard the normal cybertronians shuffling behind them. The deep instinctual part of him that was turbo-hound tensed at the _intruders_ so near when all of them were so exposed. The part of him that was mech pushed down the discomfort. That was Jazz and Ricochet. The mates-to-be of his beta and alpha.

Prowl rumbled soothingly, sensing Streetwise’s apprehension over the pack bond. He sent his trust and love for the Keeper over the connection. It was soon joined by Smokescreen’s devotion to the other brother. This calmed the beast and shifted the way it looked at the brothers. Instead of _intruders_ they were now _extended family/ mates of pack_.

He just wished… he wished his brothers were here to be part of this. Their existence had been a fraught one, raised to be experimented on, their carrier exposed to multiple types of shifters to see if the siblings sparked from the unions would form a cohesive pack, despite their different beastforms.

Their carrier had sacrificed himself to ensure their escape from their prison. They’d split up once in the outside world to keep the shadowy organization from coming after them. He only had the vaguest idea that they still functioned; the faded bond between them still whole, but he didn’t know where they were or if they thrived or were in any sort of danger.

Streetwise tried to cut off the old painful memories, like he always did during the pack affirmation, but they seeped through. It didn’t matter, his current pack was waiting with open soothing fields to accept and share his pain. They knew of his past and cocooned him in comfort. Barricade in particular knew his pain. He’d lost his entire pack to Hunters at a very young age and lived much of his functioning in the wilds of Kalis until they’d come across him by chance.

Streetwise reached out through the pack bond and offered comfort to the young boltjackal in return.

This is what it meant to be pack, sharing sadness as well as joy. And the positive emotions came next, threading through them. Strengthening them.

Prowl shared his trust and confidence in his pack. 

Skids shared his contentment.

Bluestreak shared his exuberant anticipation.

Barricade shared the happiness he’d been feeling all day. Streetwise wasn’t sure exactly what had happened to the boltjackal that morning, but he’d returned near bubbling and smelling faintly of mineral powders.

Nightbeat shared his excitement. Probably to do with his new job.

Smokescreen shared his, um, “excitement”. The beta always ran warm on Alignment and with his mate so close he couldn’t really help himself. It just meant the rest of the pack was running a little hot now too.

And Streetwise shared his hope. The hope that one cycle that he might see his brothers again, and maybe, just maybe, his alpha would be willing to add his mismatched brothers to this pack as well.

As Luna Two began to rise to join its sibling in the sky, Prowl closed his chestplates, and stood gracefully. The rest of the pack followed suit. They were nearly buzzing with the emotions zipping between them. Their imposing and stately alpha lifted his helm to the moons and howled a call to the hunt. The pack joined the chorus and then they moved into the trees as one.


	5. Vignette Five: Mid-Darkcycle- Bluestreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bluestreak goes to his favorite spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening suggestion: Forbidden Friendship from How to Train Your Dragon OST

Bluestreak ran through the crystals happily, heedless of how silly he looked with his glossa hanging half out of his mouth.

The hunt had been very successful. The pack had managed to bring down a huge steelboar and eaten very well. They had not taken it back to the campsite. Jazz and Ricochet weren’t really interested in living fuel and none of the beastformers took offense to that. One might call it an acquired taste.

But now it was time to freely run and indulge in his inner turbowolf. And he had a single, well loved, destination in processor.

It was a pure clear oil lake that he’d found while exploring many vorns ago during Alignment. It was completely surrounded by the crystal trees with only one little stream that fed it snaking off to the north. It had become his favorite place to sit and just be when the pack came out here. And it was sort of his little secret place.

He broke out of the crystal treeline onto the metallic outcrop that hung over the lake. From here he could sit or lay down and just enjoy the oil without getting wet. Though he did like a good swim every now and then.

The darkness had turned the normally clear oil opaque, and as he stood and looked out at it, he noticed some odd ripples accompanied by bubbles moving in lazy patterns that didn’t correspond to the natural currents. And the trail of bubbles seemed to be moving towards his rock. Was it a curious fish?

Bluestreak leaned his helm out over the liquid curiously as the tiny bubbles got closer and closer. Suddenly a red form burst out of the oil and booped Bluestreak’s nose with its own snout. The turbowolf yelped in surprise and fell back hard on his haunches, back legs splaying out in front of him.

The red form made a sound almost like a barking laugh and flipped around in the liquid. It was… a chromeseal? The red chromeseal was joined by a gold one and then in a strange twisting and unraveling, the chromeseals’ plating lifted and softened into meshes and Bluestreak was left staring at the two selkies he’d met several decacycles ago. They’d come into the Beat a few times since then, (and every time they’d bought a drink for him, dropping flirtatious lines and innuendo) but Prowl had kept them from getting as close to him as they had the first time. Flaring armor and flashing gold optics at them until they backed off. It was sort of sweet, but also kind of annoying. Bluestreak was only younger by a few breems, after all.

Jazz tried to play mediator, but he could only do so much when there were other patrons vying for his attention.

“Why are you in my lake?” Bluestreak blurted out inanely.

Fortunately, the twin selkies seemed to be amused by his runaway mouth rather than insulted.

Suntreaker floated forward, cloak trailing behind him in the clear oil. “Your lake, huh?” He asked with a smirk.

“Uh, well, not really, I mean, I just come here every Alignment, so I just sort of started thinking of it as my lake, and… how did you find this place?”

“That witch who has a shop. When we went in for a few things we needed, he told us about this lake. Gave us the coordinates and everything.” Sideswipe said lazily.

“Oh, that makes sense, I guess. I, uh, I can just go.”

“Or…” Sideswipe sing-songed at him flipping onto his back in the liquid to float. “You could come swimming with us.”

“Swimming?” Bluestreak echoed, optics cycling off and on again.

“That’s right.” Sunstreaker said floating closer. It might have sounded patronizing if it hadn’t been accompanied by Sunstreaker pulling himself up the side of the overhang with a sinuous glide of his frame. “Come swim with us, little turbowolf.”

Bluestreak wracked his processor trying to remember any lore about selkies. Was this just an invitation to swim? He didn’t think selkies drowned bots, that was sirens wasn’t it?

They waited, opticking him in a way that made him feel flustered. It didn’t help that they both smelled really nice. Similar, but different, like energon goodies versus rust sticks.

“Okay.” He heard himself say.

They both grinned.

He swallowed nervously and got down off the outcrop. The lakeshore was thin, but sloped gently down into the oil. He didn’t shift forms yet, still wary, wading into the lake on four paws. It was easier to paddle in this form, anyway.

In a processor boggling twist of magic and mesh, the twin selkies had wrapped their protomeshes around themselves and were back in their chromeseal forms. They danced and twirled in the oil around him, making him feel very slow and uncoordinated in the face of their natural grace. At one point, they shouldered up to him on either side and propelled him forward at a shockingly fast speed. Bluestreak snorted out oil that had splashed in his face, but found himself laughing at the sheer exhilaration of it all.

Sideswipe was louder than Sunstreaker, barking out his amusement while the other just snorted. Unlike other beastformers, they couldn’t speak while in their chromeseal forms. Bluestreak wondered about that for a moment, but he was having too much fun to really think about it and decided that it must be something to do with their inherently magical nature.

After a meandering path through the oil, they ended up under the outcrop back where they’d started. The selkies unraveled their protomeshes again and this time Bluestreak changed with them, shifting into his mech form. The space under the outcrop was large enough for all three of them to fit comfortably, up to their neck cables in the oil. It was like a small, wet grotto.

Bluestreak was giggling, he was planning on saying something about having fun or asking them if they planned on coming back, but then he saw the intent looks on their faceplates. His giggle trailed off and died.

They both pressed closer, protomesh flowing out behind them, making them look bigger than they actually were. Bluestreak’s backplates bumped into the natural wall of the grotto. His servos transformed to claws as he scrabbled for purchase on the wall behind him. Even though there were only two of them, he felt like he was surrounded. But he didn’t feel like he was in danger.

Their fields were intense, yes, but not threatening.

Sunstreaker crowded even closer. Sideswipe nipped at his twin and the other snapped back with a snort, “My turn first!”

The red twin sighed theatrically, but backed off just a fraction. “Fine, Sunshine.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Bluestreak could only watch in mute fascination as Sunstreaker leaned in… and captured his dermas in a surprisingly gentle kiss.

He squeaked.

Sideswipe laughed, though not unkindly, “Move over, I wanna see if he makes that noise again.”

He did not. When Sideswipe kissed him, he gasped.

When the red twin pulled back, both selkies looked self-satisfied.

“W-what was… that?” Bluestreak asked.

“A thank you.” Sunstreaker answered with a shrug. But they backed off a little, allowing Bluestreak to vent a little more easily. “We didn’t get a chance to do so properly until now.”

“Thank you for what? Is this about your cloak? You’ve thanked me enough, I promise!”

“So,” Sideswipe said conversationally as if he hadn’t just sent Bluestreak’s processor for a tumble, “where’s a place we could get to know you without your brother growling at us?”

“Uh…” The beastformer struggled to form a coherent thought. “I like to go to the Iacon shooting range?”

Sunstreaker perked up. “Shooting range?”

“Yeah I, um, I shoot competitively, so I go there all the time to practice. It’s nice, you get your own private space to practice and… uh, why are you looking at me like that?”

They’d begun opticking him appraisingly with an edge of… something… “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you.” Sideswipe said.

“Not… really? I’m just me.” Bluestreak said helplessly.

For some reason that made the twins smile.

Sideswipe splashed playfully. “Come on, let’s swim some more!”

He grabbed one of Bluestreak’s servos, Sunstreaker grabbed the other and they pulled him back out into the open oil.


	6. Vignette Six: Alignment- Jazz and Prowl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz enacts an Alignment ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listening suggestion: Without You by Ursine Vulpine

The pack had split up again after their hunt. Bluestreak and Barricade had both run off in different directions on their own. Nightbeat had settled himself under the moons, outside the “pack” tent with a larger than normal data pad cradled between his canis paws. Every once in a while he would tap the pad with his snout to scroll up whatever he was reading. Streetwise and Skids were lazily napping off their earlier meal inside the tent, the two turbohounds curled together. Smokescreen was making something of a nuisance of himself, constantly pressing up against Ricochet as he tried to look over some documents he’d brought from work, whining for his attention, and nearly flattening him with his superior bulk. Though, Ricochet didn’t seem too put out by it, if his amused smirk was anything to go by.

Jazz gazed up at the two full moons, nearly in proper Alignment, when they would cross paths, perfectly in line with one another. He was very aware of the potion vial in his subspace that he’d picked up a few cycles ago from Trailbreaker’s. He wasn’t nervous, just aware of it. 

When Jazz had told the curious witch what it was for, the mech had grinned at him so brightly he’d nearly gone blind.

Just a few cycles previous, he’d asked Smokescreen about acts of devotion that he might offer Prowl to show the alpha that he was serious and wanted to take their relationship to the next level. And though Smokescreen had been nearly bursting with glee (and a little bit of envy- he wanted the same with Ricochet), he’d told Jazz about a very specific ritual he could enact on Alignment.

It made his core temperature rise a bit, but he wanted to do it. He wanted to show Prowl just how much he meant to Jazz.

How much he loved him.

Prowl gently nudged Jazz’s side with his canine helm, breaking the Polyhexian out of his thoughts, and murmured. “There’s something I’d like to show you.”

“Sure, Prowler. Lead th’ way.” Jazz said with a warm smile.

They walked out of the campsite clearing. Behind them, Jazz heard Ricochet admonish Smokescreen. “I can’t concentrate when ya do tha’, ya menace! Ya tryin’ t’ squash me? Hey, did I say stop, idiot? Cuddles are fine, jus’ not so I can’t read. Settle d-ack!”

There was the sound of a _thwump!_ , which was probably Smokescreen pouncing on the orange-visored mech, and a muffled protest. Jazz didn’t turn around. He had plans, and Ricochet could handle an overly affectionate beastformer on his own.

They walked for a while. At last Prowl transformed to his mech form. Well, mostly mech, the audial shells and tail stayed, as did the fangs, claws and golden optics. It was just easier if he didn’t try to suppress them right now. Jazz didn’t mind, he still thought Prowl looked hotter than a smelter. He took Jazz’s servos into his clawed ones.

With an almost shy smile he asked. “Will you turn off your optics? There’s a place I’ve wanted to show you since our first date and I’d like to surprise you.”

What could Jazz do but oblige?

Prowl carefully led him forward, telling him where to put his pedes.

He heard it first.

“Wha’s tha’ sound?” Jazz asked tilting his helm.

Prowl chuckled. “Look and see. We’re here.”

Jazz turned his optical feed back on and gasped in delight. In front of them was the biggest singing quartz crystal he’d ever seen.

The crystalline trunk was striated in a multitude of colors. Out of the top of it sprouted ropes of crystal filaments that chimed sweetly as they swayed in a soft breeze. Prowl gave his servo a little tug and led him under the overhanging filaments into the space surrounding the trunk. The sparkling, tinkling canopy was like a magical secret world. Jazz grinned happily and threw his arms around Prowl’s neck.

“This is amazin’!”

Prowl rumbled softly. “I’m glad you like it.” He brought his servos to rest on Jazz’s backplates and leaned in for a long, deep kiss. The brush of fangs against his dermas and glossa and the slight catch of claws along his backplates sent skitters of pleasure up his spinal strut.

Jazz stepped back with a final nuzzle. It was all-too-easy to get distracted.

“Does something trouble you?” Prowl asked.

“Wha’ makes ya think tha’?”

“You are far more quiet than you usually are.” He didn’t sound worried, merely curious.

Jazz chuckled. “Ya know me too well, Prowler, but nothin’s wrong. I’ve jus’ been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

“Oh? Is it something you can share with me?”

“It’s somethin’ I definitely want t’ share with ya.” Jazz took a vent. “I’m gonna say somethin’ an’ I hope I get it right ‘cause all I ‘ad t’ go on was Smokescreen an’ Trailbreaker.”

Prowl waited attentively.

“Alpha Prowl, ya ‘ave me, processor, frame, an’ spark. I come t’ ya this Alignment an’ offer ya a Mate Hunt. I come prepared t’ make this Hunt a challenge t’ prove myself t’ ya.” Jazz pulled out the potion vial from his subspace and held it where Prowl could see. He knew the beastformer would recognize the red Excellence potion.

Prowl had gone completely still, except for the very end of his tail which twitched, seemingly out of his control. The expression on his faceplates was somewhere between disbelieving and exultation. “You… offer this to me, freely?”

Jazz grinned, nerves and excitement beginning to mix. “I do.”

“When I catch you, I’ll... want to merge. Deeply. I… might not be able to stop myself.”

Contrary to what the holo-dramas and romance novels would have you believe, permanent bonding didn’t just take one spark merge. It took repeated and deep merging and a bond could strengthen or weaken depending on how often a couple was merging.

Prowl and Jazz had merged before, lightly, and it had always felt good. There was always a sort of “echo” afterwards, allowing them to read each other more easily. A deep merge might leave them with a particularly strong connection for a while. Jazz was looking forward to it.

“I’m countin’ on it, lover.” Jazz purred. “Can’t wait t’ feel ya.”

Prowl’s golden optics took on a feverish shine. When he spoke, his vocals had gone low and rough. “You should start running now.”

Jazz took a single step backwards towards the break in the curtain of crystals around them, he uncorked the vial. “Give me a little ‘ead start, yeah?”

Prowl only growled in response. His clawed servos dug into the trunk of the singing quartz behind him, as if he were keeping himself in place by sheer force of will.

Jazz downed the potion in a single swallow, an electric thrill running up his spinal strut. Tingling warmth shot out from his tank to his extremities and with it a rush of energy. Jazz turned tail and bolted. The potion would only last a short time, boosting his speed, strength and stamina, so he needed to put some distance between them quickly.

The forest was a glittering blur around him. He easily hopped over fallen trunks and tangling wire brush in his path. Just as he stumbled across an old game trail, he heard a loud, hungry howl somewhere in the distance. 

He recognized it.

Further away, other howls answered. Encouraging, goading.

Jazz folded down into his alt and roared down the game trail as fast as his wheels would take him. Another thrill ran through him at the thought that Prowl was now in pursuit. He could admit that he’d been skeptical when Trailbreaker had told him the Alignment didn’t just affect other worlders. But now, out in the wilds under the moons, he could have sworn that he could feel the lunar energy singing through his lines.

Some instinct had him putting on a burst of speed from his reserves, narrowly avoiding Prowl as he leapt at Jazz from the treeline in his turbowolf form. The beastformer lost some speed as he overshot and crashed through the crystal trees on the other side of the trail.

Jazz’s sensors tracked the beastformer as he gained ground behind him and then ran alongside him in the crystals.

Fatigue began to creep in at the edges of his awareness. The potion was wearing off.

Jazz swerved off the trail and transformed. He made it a few meters into the trees. 

Prowl’s field washed over him as his lover tackled him, back in mech form. The beastformer twisted them as they fell into the tingrass, taking the brunt of the fall, then rolling them over so that he’d pinned Jazz to the forest floor.

Prowl’s chestplates were already cracked open, bathing his faceplates in an ethereal glow. He captured Jazz’s dermas, field pulsing with lust, excitement and love. He ran claws gently down Jazz’s plating, teasing the seam of his chestplates. A possessive growl from Prowl’s engine rattled through Jazz down to his struts.

Jazz hummed in response and opened his chestplates to Prowl’s eager digits and optics. The beastformer pulled their chests together and Jazz was immersed in everything that was Prowl. His dedication to his pack. His protectiveness. His razor-sharp intellect. His bright, burning love for Jazz.

Jazz welcomed it all and hoped he was giving as good as he got, but it was difficult to concentrate. Especially when Prowl put his mouth on Jazz’s neck, nipping and worrying the cables gently with his fangs.

“I love ya.” Jazz whispered over and over, the sentiment echoing in his spark. “I love ya.”

Around them the crystals glowed softly in the reflection of their combined sparklight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alignment outtakes:  
> Prowl and Bluestreak  
> “Why do you smell like magic and oil?”  
> “Do I? I mean… no reason, just, you know, went for a swim and there were, uh, some interesting fish in the lake.”
> 
> Ricochet and Smokescreen  
> “So… do I want t’ know wha’ that sudden howl ya made when we were making out meant?”  
> “Well, the literal translation was something along the lines of, ‘go get him, big bro’.”
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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